


The Ring of Fire

by Serinah



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BDSM, Bucky’s fluffy pink comforter, Dom Tony Stark, Embarrassment, Gift Exchange, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, Kink Negotiation, Light Sadism, M/M, Masochism, Mild Painplay, Misunderstandings, No Negotiation, Pain, Pining, Professor Tony Stark, Prompt Fill, SSaC, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Sex Toys, Sexual Confusion, Steve Rogers-centric, Steve is a little shit, Student Steve Rogers, Sub Steve Rogers, confusion about dynamic, enjoyed humiliation, feeling stupid, slight degradation, sub/dom, ults steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah
Summary: Steve is 19 and has only had one girlfriend. He doesn’t like men, never has, so why the hell does Professor Stark make him feel this way?A story with a ridiculous amount of anger, internalized homophobia, sexual exploration, self-discovery and pining. In short: it's about how student Steve tries, fails and then tries again to understand what is going on with him while dealing with his crush on a professor.





	1. THE MAIN STORY (as it was planned by the author)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [One and Five Nines (Obani)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obani/gifts).



> WARNING:  
> The main character in this story is working through a lot of internalized homophobia and confusion regarding power dynamics and expresses a lot of views that are not those of the author. In particular, he equates being gay and submissive with being weak. Please remember that these are not the views of the author, and read with consideration to your own limits. Stay safe!
> 
> ALSO:  
> It’s a lot less degrading and humiliating than the tags allow you to imagine. And maybe less porny too, because Steve needs to self-reflect a lot. Bucky makes only two brief appearances, so this is very Steve-centric and we don’t actually see a lot of Tony in it until the epilogue and most of it is through Steve’s eyes anyway.
> 
> Title comes from a Johnny Cash's song.

It had started as a prank. A dare. Steve was supposed to tell Professor Stark that he was willing to ‘work for his grade’, nothing else, nothing compromising; no coy looks or eyelash fluttering. It wasn’t even that anyone was there to check if he’d actually said it. It was supposed to be safe. So to speak.

That wasn’t how it worked out, however. Just as Steve said the words, he’d looked up into Professor Stark's eyes and he’d been done for.

“What?” the professor said, looking astonished, and that could have been it; Steve could have stood up from his chair, made a joke or even just admitted to having been dared to say that, but something in Steve had other ideas.

“You heard me,” Steve replied, his voice hoarse, his body arrested, frozen in place, staring up at Professor Stark who took a half a step back, startled. They both knew that Steve had never gotten anything less than B on his assignments.

“Oh,” the older man said.

For a long moment they just stared at each other.

Steve had no idea what it was in him that hadn't let him to just walk out of the professor's office right then and there. Why he had allowed the professor to tentatively step into his personal space or why Steve slid further to the edge of the chair or why he opened his knees to admit the professor between them at the first sign of interest.

“You…” Stark gulped, his gorgeous eyes wide with amazement and--to Steve’s surprise--desperate want. “You... want this?” One of Stark’s hands reached out to cup Steve's cheek and Steve's breath hitched.

“Yes.” The word was almost ripped out of Steve’s throat; the previously unknown need wanting to claw out of his ribcage. For all the excitement rushing through his veins, he couldn’t move, as if tethered to the spot by invisible vines, sitting with his hands still gripping the seat and staring up at the man he’d been apparently unknowingly to himself lusting after.

"Are you sure?" Professor Stark asked while Steve’s shaking fingers were already unzipping his fly. “You don’t have to do anything," the man repeated, but Steve knew it wasn’t true. Of course, he couldn't back down now!

"Steve,” Stark breathed with something akin to reverence in his voice.

Steve wished he hadn't used his first name. Most students were on a first name basis with their teachers, but now that _this_ was happening, Steve felt some distance was essential.

"I know I don't have to," he said regardless, even though the words felt like ashes in his mouth. Still, Steve wasn't one to back down that easily. Stopping now would mean he'd made a mistake. Stopping meant quitting. "I want to," he added determinedly. Eagerly almost, like a teen with his first crush. "Yes, I'm sure. Please, let me, sir. Please."

Oh god, what had even possessed him? Steve knew he probably wasn't very good in bed; he just didn't have enough experience, so he had no idea what to actually do and bravado only got you so far. Confronted with the first cock that wasn't his own, Steve froze like an idiot; his limbs ungainly and out of place, embarrassed into incoherency.

“Shh!” Stark said, stroking his cheek and Steve felt lifted, forgiven. Cherished. “It’s okay,” Stark murmured gently. “You’re good, you don’t have to do anything, just…"

Surprised at the uncertainty in Stark's tone, Steve looked up. Stark's gaze was full of such naked hope mixed with anxious worry that momentarily, Steve's nervousness disappeared.

"What do I do?" he asked hoarsely.

Stark swallowed, then visibly pulled himself together and said, "Just… like this?"  He guided Steve’s hands onto his hips, stroked Steve’s hair and smiled. He took his thick, mostly hard cock into his hand. "Yeah, just like that," he encouraged at Steve's acquiescence. He guided his cock into Steve’s mouth and shivering, Steve closed his eyes.

For a second, he just held it there, uncertain, but then Stark moved a bit and it got better. Steve could do it. He could… take it. The idea of just being there with his mouth open as To- Stark used him was exhilarating, filthy. Somebody moaned and Steve realized that it was probably him.

Shit.

Feeling foolish, Steve tried swallowing - that was something he was supposed to do, right? Stark made a noise and Steve repeated it. He tried using his tongue and the cock in his mouth stopped the slow slide as if Tony was waiting to see what Steve would do. Damn it. Steve inhaled and then sucked hard. Stark moaned and his hand on Steve’s hair tightened for a moment. Steve was trying desperately to remember the techniques he’d heard being talked about (he’d certainly never researched them himself), but there was nothing. He lapped at the shaft, then tried bobbing, but the height wasn't the most comfortable. He had to lean down too much and at this proximity it was-

Fuck it.

Steve pushed at Stark’s hips and before the other man had time to protest or ask about it, he dropped to his knees. Steve took the cock in his mouth again and--yes--this was good. This was right. He started sucking again, but soon Stark took over and Steve just had to open wide and-- _take it you cock-slut, take it, you filthy faggot, you poof_ \--Steve was moaning, his body feeling heavy and light at the same time-

“So good, god, Steve, your mouth! Just look at you - so beautiful, so... god yes! Please,” was the litany of praise and encouragement Steve heard, but this was wrong, it was wrong and a tight ball of unease started to grow in the pit of his stomach. Thank god that was when the man finally shut up and came.

Stark was panting, then just as Steve was about to stand up, Stark was down there with Steve, breathing heavily and Steve realised that he was panting too. Suddenly, there was a hand on his crotch and it hit Steve then how _hard_ he was, had been all this time probably. He bit off a moan as strong fingers pressed down, caressed and rubbed it through his clothes.

“Steve,” Ton- Stark said breathlessly, “Just let me, please. Steve, you’re so… God, just let me just make you feel good, Steve...”

The awful praise was making him uncomfortable, wrong and unworthy, but the grip was good, masterful, and Steve was already unzipping himself. He was trembling and panting, feeling as if there was no oxygen in the room, but the touch was so, so good. It was as if his mind had gone liquid; as if he was a little drunk but in a really soft and pleasant way. Clever fingers were jacking him off, the grip just a bit painful, and the speed increasing quickly. There was a mouth on his neck, sucking and then sucking _harder_ and Steve was coming, his fingers reflexively holding onto Stark’s jacket.

When it was all over and Steve finally realised what he'd done, he ran.

  


Later, Steve didn’t remember how he got out of Professor Stark’s office or how he arrived at his dorm. In fact, he decided he wasn’t going to think about it at all. The sex had cleared his mind to a degree that physically, he was still feeling great even days later. It had been a mistake, yes, but it had also helped to lessen his obsession with Professor Stark. That’s what he’d told himself and that made sense. There was no point in lingering on details.

Not thinking about it lasted for three days.

Then he opened the door to the auditorium and it hit him: he'd had sex with a man. For no discernable reason he'd had sex with a man and had enjoyed it. What was worse, it hadn't been a nameless man in a dark alley, easy to forget and never to be met again; he’d blown Tony Stark. The same Tony Stark that he had to see every week until the end of semester. The same Tony Stark that was currently standing in front of the room staring intently at his laptop.

And now he was raising his head and Steve went numb all over. Their eyes met and there was a friendly, reassuring smile blossoming on Stark’s lips. Steve was enraged; the smile had the same reassuring quality that Stark offered to students who were failing his class.

Cold fury descended like a blanket over Steve, quenching his humiliation. Steve _glared._ He wasn’t Stark’s fuck toy who’d drop to his knees at the first patronizing smile. Steve stared at the man for a second more just to make sure that Stark got the message. Ignoring his urge to flee, Steve found a seat in the back row, opened his notebook and told himself to listen.

A quarter of an hour later, he finally admitted to himself that he had no idea what was the topic or what the disjointed words he picked up here and there signified. Damn that man.

Steve was fuming. He didn’t even like men. Not sexually and not romantically. And he certainly didn't like Professor Stark, so Stark was not allowed to imagine that he could just crook his finger and Steve would come running for a repeat. Steve had the upper hand here; he’d started it, he would be the one to finish it.

  


Nevertheless, a mere week later, here Steve was, loitering behind Stark’s office just after his hours ended.

Fuck.

It was just about physical relief, Steve told himself, he’d liked it for the tryst it was. They'd already done it once, so why not again? There was no point in looking for a different hook-up if one was (potentially) available, was there?

When invited in, Steve closed the door, pushed Stark against the desk and kissed him. His first girlfriend, Peggy, had said that he was a good kisser, and he had to show Stark that he was good at _something._ It was just sex, after all; sex often started with kissing, so that’s why Steve did it. No other reason.

“Jesus, Rogers. What’s wrong with you?” Stark demanded breathlessly between Steve’s kisses.

“Shut up,” Steve growled. It wasn’t good yet, Stark wasn’t… Why wasn't he taking over? It didn't feel as good when his partner was hesitant and the light touch of the man’s fingers on his body felt wrong, but it would get better soon, he told himself, just as Stark got with the program and-

Steve felt for Stark’s belt buckle, but despite being at least half hard, Stark clasped his hand over Steve’s.

“No.”

Heat pooled into Steve’s belly, but looking Stark into the eyes, his stomach dropped. Stark hadn't meant it like Steve wanted him to. He hadn’t meant it as not yet, but as an actual _rejection._ Shit. Why would he say no to…?

They stared at each other.

“Fine,” Steve mumbled, blood rushing to his face and spreading out to his ears and chest. Stumbling, he rushed out the door, just hearing enough to know that Stark wanted to talk to him. But fuck it.

Humiliation hot on his heels, Steve ran.

  


It was too late to drop the class, even though how invention and design in Star Trek reflected back to postmodernism was the last thing he cared about. Regardless, he came to the lecture every week, sat in the last row and took notes. He never looked up and as far as he could tell, Stark didn’t look at him either.

Good. That was what he’d wanted.

At the end of the second lecture after The Mistake That Didn’t Happen, Stark was returning the printed essays (he preferred digital work, but also accepted hard copies) and as the last name he called ‘Steve Rogers.’ He had a sheet of paper in his hand, but it wasn’t Steve’s. Steve knew it wasn’t because he had stopped turning in his work.

Slowly, he raised his head.

“Hey, Steve!” someone a few rows further hissed. “Your essay!”

People were getting to their feet already, but they’d still notice if he’d just sneaked out now.

Slowly, as if there were lead weights dragging behind him, he made it to the first row and then to the podium in front of which Stark was standing.

“I would very much like to discuss this during office hours,” Stark said in what appeared to be a normal voice, but Steve saw that his smile was stilted and his knuckles white around the paper, wrinkling it slightly.

“I'm afraid I can’t. I'm busy later,” Steve said, hoping that he didn’t sound as angry as he felt.

Stark’s eyes flitted around the room worriedly and the sudden clarity of what he was worried about hit Steve.

Stark didn’t want a repeat, he wanted a reassurance that Steve wouldn’t report him.

Insulted and livid, Steve just stood and stared at the professor.

“Fine,” he pressed through his teeth.

Was that what he thought of Steve?

Was that-

Steve took a calming breath. “How about right now? In your office?”

Momentary relief flashed over Stark’s face before it shuttered behind the self-confident mask that never failed to make Steve a little bit hard. Despite Steve’s anger, this time was no exception.

  


The moment the door of the office closed behind them, Steve froze. Just like the last time he’d been here, his brain reacted by flooding his body with lust hormones and it took everything in him to just stand there and not fall to his knees like a hopeless slut.

God, that thought only made him even harder. And angrier. It was not the time for stupid revelations, but this was the point Steve realized that whatever Tony Stark would want to do to him, Steve’s body was pliant and willing. Like open mating season.

Christ.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” Stark’s voice startled Steve out of his lust haze.

To his utter horror, Steve's tongue said, “Who said anything about talking?”

Standing in the middle of the room, Stark stared back at him.

“Frankly, this is insulting,” the professor said after a moment, looking back to Steve who had stopped just inside the door. “First, you proposition me. Twice. Both times you run off like a scared little boy. Then you refuse to even look at me, and now you're propositioning me _again._ What am I? A pocket pussy for you to play with?"

Anger flaring at being ridiculed, Steve opened his mouth to say… Steve had no idea what, but Stark made an imperious hand gesture that instantly made Steve close it.

"But you don’t stop there, do you, Rogers? To make matters worse, in the rare cases that you _do_ look at me, you glare at me as if I _raped_ you."

Shocked into speechlessness, Steve stared at the older man with wide eyes, feeling as if the floor had fallen out from underneath him, but even though in freefall, he was still unable to escape Stark’s scrutiny. And then with a _whoosh_ the sensation ended and he was back in the quiet office with an understandably angry, wronged man standing before him, waiting for a--justified--explanation.

“I…” Steve swallowed back the threatening bile. “You didn’t rape me.”

Some of the tension left Stark’s frame. “Good, I’m glad we agree on that.”

“Yeah, no, I…" Steve's voice  was timid. "I wanted it. Even if you had used force or called me names, I’d have-”

Cutting himself off in horror, Steve clamped his mouth shut and turned to flee, but Stark must’ve anticipated it, because he was right there, hand on the door frame, boxing Steve literally into a corner.

“Wait, don’t go,” Stark said quickly, but in a low, calming voice as if Steve was a skittish animal. “Please.”

Steve froze; the last word didn’t sound at all plaintive. Instead, it sounded strong and confident; persuasive. Like an order.

“I’m sorry,” the professor added in his regular tone. Even though he stepped back a step, but Steve was still gripped by the power of Tony Stark’s presence and shivered. “I must have misread the situation.”

Steve blinked in confusion and looked up. Why wasn’t Stark angry anymore?

“I know the whole situation might feel confusing for you,” Stark went on reassuringly. “Would you like to sit down? I think there are some things we should discuss.”

  


When Steve left the office an hour later, he felt calm, still shocked and, while confused in some ways, he was also relieved in others. Stark- Tony had told him things that… Steve had a lot to think about now. They’d exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet after the course was over to talk more if Steve still wanted to and that felt… Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that actually. He wasn’t entirely sure if Tony had hinted at the possibility of an actual _session_ (another new thing he’d learned about) or if he’d made that up due to wishful thinking.

In the meantime, Tony had given him a flash drive with some materials and links to more information, but even without looking at them, to Steve, his strange affinity to Tony Stark was now clear. It wasn’t the maleness Steve had been drawn to. Not that there would have been anything wrong if he had, his father's homophobic slurs notwithstanding, but Steve couldn't deny that he was relieved nonetheless. Admiring Tony's dominant qualities and not necessarily his maleness made sense to him. It was his presence; the way he made Steve feel as if he could give up control, and that was because Steve had submissive tendencies which was not a bad thing in itself. Especially since Tony explained how strong and independent subs often were, how confident submissives were all the more sweet to play with, how in many ways the submissive partner was actually the one who dictated what happened in a scene. Being a submissive was not the same as being gay, Steve told himself. It didn't mean that he was weak. Not at all.

Steve smiled. Now he had a place to start. He knew that Tony’s materials were likely to be geared towards gay men, so he decided to approach the matter from another angle; he was going to look into the power dynamics, starting with femdom. If he liked it… Steve could now finally breathe easier.

  


The initial research didn't go as he'd had hoped. ‘I thought I was gay but I’m submissive instead’ search found him several blog entries and forums, but… The ways in which people seemed to try and dispel the confusion around the two topics didn’t make sense to him. Men who discovered that they’d been straight after all kept describing female bodies in a way that was unlike anything Steve had ever experienced (he wasn’t a virgin). The stories people shared online felt similar to his own experiences, but not similar in the _right ways._ So Steve decided to join a BDSM forum to research the matter from the other side, but if anything, that made sense even less. None of the Dominas or Dommes made his heart pound like...

Jerkily, Steve closed the laptop with a clang and pushed himself away from the desk. Feeling stupid and betrayed, Steve went running.

  


He wasn’t used to running in the evenings. Not that the process itself was different, but there were a lot more people getting in the way who were not runners; children, dogs, vendors, teens doing something vaguely resembling parkouring and old people, crossing the paths he was trying to-

Hey! Was that…?

“He stole my purse!” an older lady exclaimed in a wobbly, astonished voice and Steve increased his speed to find where the rollerblading thief had gone. He spotted the man a bit ahead, and gave chase. The man didn’t even seem to be in a hurry; he was just removing his gray hoodie while rollerblading leisurely away, so sure was he in his blending in skills. It was clearly not his first job. In a burst of speed, Steve tackled the thief to the ground and a brief struggle ensued. With a startlement, Steve saw a glint of a blade and internally panicking, just slammed both of his hands on the wrist that held the knife. Once the man’s fingers slackened, Steve threw the weapon farther away.

Thankfully, Steve was twice as large as the thief and he only had to sock him in the jaw once for him to go limp. Then Steve just sat on him, hissing menacingly, “Don’t you even think about it!” when he tried to get up.

Thank god, the police came quickly because Steve’s adrenaline was starting to wind down and by the time the mugger was handcuffed, Steve was shaking. The old lady, however, spared no praise and by the time she was finished with him, Steve didn’t know where to cast his embarrassed eyes.

  


Steve went home with a feeling of a job well done; he slept like the dead and woke up energized and rested. But that was later. The first thing Steve realized when he woke up was the damn morning wood which he got his hands on even before he opened his eyes. The images dancing in front of his eyes were of hard bodies and firm words, of forbidding glances from a pair of gorgeous dark eyes framed in long, sinuous eyelashes. The goatee was scratching at the back of his neck as the pressure at his back entrance increased- and Steve came with a low groan of satisfaction, chased away by a bitter taste of regret in his mouth.

  


After that day, jerking off was once again something done in the shower, a quick thing, clinical and matter of fact, safe, a part of his morning routine like brushing teeth. He didn't think about anything while he did it. At least he tried not to, and he certainly didn't remember what he imagined afterwards. He also tried to masturbate to femdom porn, but with painful disappointment had to confess to himself that even though he liked what was happening in the videos, the women themselves did nothing for him. Instead, he kept imagining strong shoulders, firm bodies… and cocks.

Trying not to remember what Tony's cock looked like was a challenge. How it felt in his mouth or how Tony's fingers gripped his hair or caressed his neck and cheeks. Every time Steve remembered, he had to quickly distract himself lest his body reacted in an inappropriate way.

Steve had to assume that Tony had got him good with this... his dominant thing. He just had to be strong enough to reroute the way to his pleasure centre, that was all.

  


For a while, Steve didn't dare to look at the forums, and the materials Tony had downloaded for him remained untouched. Instead, he studied, trained and Didn’t Think. Sam and Bucky, the two idiots whose joking had started this whole mess in the first place, had both, in their own ways, hinted at being willing to listen to him, but how could he talk to them about _that_? So Steve increased his workout hours, compensated with stress eating and avoided his friends.

  


About a week after the run-in with the mugger, Steve was still jogging twice a day but this morning was a good one because it was already seven, not some ass o’clock. At first, Steve creeped around because apparently, Bucky hadn’t managed to make it to his bedroom last night, but then he remembered how several hours ago Bucky had barged into his room shouting about them going out clubbing just as Steve had finally started to doze off.

Steve glanced at the vaguely human-shaped lump of a fluffy pink comforter on the sofa, and smirking, knocked his keys off the side table.

“The fuck…?” Bucky mumbled, as he rolled over, blinking in incomprehension in Steve’s direction.

“I dropped my keys. Sorry,” Steve replied in a loud voice, donning his trainers at the door of their two-bedroom apartment. “I’m just going for a run.”

“Isn’t it Saturday? Jesus, Stevie…” Bucky muttered and pulled the comforter back over his head.

“And how are we feeling today? Fresh as a daisy?” Steve asked in the same up-beat voice.

There was an indistinct mumble about not getting to judge if he never even participated.

“Why in hell aren’t you in bed, anyway?” Steve asked with a grin, knowing full well the reason.

“Shut’p,” came the muffled voice from under the comforter.

Steve laughed in his best mocking way and closed the door behind himself.

  


This morning, running was a struggle. His chest was tight in a reminder of the days when his childhood asthma would still act up; his legs felt heavy. He never listened to music while running but today he wondered if it would’ve helped. Halfway into his usual route, he finally settled into a rhythm and his mind cleared.

Moving was exhilarating; the path soft under his feet, air whooshing past him, cleansing, and for once, his mind was blessedly blank.

Then an old lady appeared from behind the bend and Steve stumbled. It wasn't the same woman, of course, it wasn't. Nor was there a thief and absolutely no reason for his blood pressure to suddenly double, but for some reason, the event was playing in front of his eyes in full technicolour and he thought that maybe it wasn't such an everyday occurrence to chase and catch a thief like he had, even if the guy had been of a slight build and hadn’t put up much of a fight.

The glint of a knife flashed in front of Steve’s eyes and he shuddered.

How many had witnessed the crime and how many had acted? How many people usually interfered, and how many of them would have backed off the moment the blade came into play? Not that he blamed them, but...

So what if he was gay? Steve bet that most of those other people who’d just stood and gawked had been straight. Who was the weak one back there? Did Steve think Tony Stark to be weak if he liked men in his bed? No. Did anyone else think that? Certainly, not anyone who mattered.

Neither Sam or Bucky would think any less of Steve, nor would Bucky’s family. And what did Steve care about what some random stupid people thought? Steve could be gay if he wanted to. It wasn’t weak. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be even brave to admit to it.

After that revelation it didn’t take long for him to realize that he’d been confusing a dynamic with orientation and that he didn’t like Tony because he’d somehow, mysteriously tricked Steve into recognizing Tony’s dominant qualities as a lover. No. Apparently, Steve was more into men than he was into women. Right?

  


After that it got easier. He found a lot of people on the internet who’d gone through similar journeys of self-discovery and made new friends online, and tentatively, Steve even started to think that maybe it wouldn't matter if he took a look at Tony’s stuff, he was what he was and perhaps tonight was the time to find out for sure. He wouldn’t be Steve Rogers though if upon reaching a decision he did something by half measures. So instead of plugging in the flash drive, he found a streaming site for homosexual porn and dived right in.

The experience was… disappointing. Men domming men wasn’t actually much better than femdom for him _._ He liked the action, but not the bodies doing the actions. There was one particular actor though… dark hair, dark eyes, a short beard. Steve wasn’t so stupid as to not realise the resemblance, but that didn’t help. It was frustrating to know that apparently he was so dead-set on one person that he couldn’t enjoy others. He wrote about it in the forums and most of the respondents laughed about him having a type, but one of them just said: _Dude, maybs ur demi?_

Steve googled demi.

And his jaw dropped. It was… uncanny how right this felt. Demisexuals apparently needed emotions to feel sexual attraction. It had been like that with Peggy and it was just the same with Tony now. Steve had never understood why the ‘locker room talk’ even happened, so needlessly disrespectful and crass, but apparently, _he_ was the one that saw people differently. Experienced sexuality differently.

Huh.

So basically, dynamic notwithstanding, he had a crush on Tony Stark, pure and simple.

This was bad. This was certainly not something he could tell Tony. He’d  learned that from Peggy: people didn’t like being the object of such a singular attention. Surely, Tony Stark wouldn't appreciate it either, so let him think that Steve was gay or bi or whatever. Let him think that Steve liked men in general and that Tony Stark was on of them. Let him think that Steve was there for the kink. Maybe at some point, Steve would fall for the ruse too.

Steve hid his face in his palms and sat like that for a while.

  


Steve couldn’t stop thinking about how Tony had promised to make contact after the course was over. They were supposed to meet and talk. _Just_ talk. Probably. The hope that there would be potential for more made heat pool in his stomach and then there was little else that he could even think about. Steve pushed the daydreams away.

They probably wouldn't even play together because by that time Steve would be over the… thing he needed to be over. Tony could maybe simply mentor him, maybe introduce him to some people… And eve if… Steve certainly knew better than to expect more than a single session, anyway. Steve was inexperienced and had displayed his immaturity on a level no normal person would care to tolerate. That Tony had explained things to him, had given him the flash drive, was a small miracle in itself and Steve knew to be grateful.

And why was he even thinking about it in the library when he was supposed to be studying?

“Hey, buttcheek,” Bucky said in greeting as he dropped his book bag on the chair between them and sat down.

“Dickweed!” Steve grinned. “What are you doing in a library on a Friday evening? I thought you had a thing?”

“Nah, it fell through because Sam's a loser. And it’s not as fun clubbing without you anyway.”

Steve glanced at him and nodded slowly. "Right."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd be moping here alone, so I thought I’d be a good friend for once in my life and lend a sympathetic ear."

"I'm not moping," Steve mumbled quietly, sat up straight and stared determinedly at his open book. Bucky meant well, and in a way, it even worked. Steve knew that his best friend was willing to listen, but it wasn’t his fault that Steve wasn’t ready to talk.

Bucky tilted his face back. "Uh-huh. And I like being cooped up in the library instead of cruising."

Steve smothered a grin. "Right. Open your materials then and start working, you dim dick-” Steve cut himself off because an older lady, probably a librarian, went past. He continued more quietly, “I don't need the added stress of tutoring my hapless second best friend."

Bucky raised his eyebrows in indignation. "I don’t think you’ve ever needed to tutor me." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest mock-menacingly. "It’s more like _me_ tutoring _you_ in getting some. And second-best? You better explain yourself, you moping no-game asshole."

Rolling his eyes wasn't something Steve Rogers did, but if it were, he'd be doing that now. In his best patronising way. Instead, he turned his 'I'm disappointed in you and you should know better' gaze towards his friend and explained patiently, "I don’t think dragging me along on your dates counts.” When Bucky’s demeanor didn’t change, Steve deadpanned, “And I didn't say second-best, I said second _best,_ as in I have two best friends and you come straight after Sam!"

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "I'm _second_ best after Sam now, am I?"

"No,” Steve said, absolutely not mocking. “I meant, _first_ after _S-_ "

"Go to hell, you asshat!" Bucky replied, definitely mock-glading, and punched Steve in the shoulder.

“No rough-housing in the library, young men!” came a voice from above them and startled, they raised their heads only to see the same female librarian who'd passed them earlier looking at them sternly. Then she turned her pointed gaze specifically on Bucky and said, “No hitting your fellow student, Richard!”

  


The next Monday, Steve finally decided to turn up for Tony’s lecture. He’d skipped the two last ones, but one could only skip so many without the doctor’s note and Steve didn’t feel comfortable with lying to his doctor. He dreaded rejoining the lectures, but it wasn’t as if he would be alo-

Steve cut the thought off, gripped his backpack’s strap firmly into his fist and crossed the threshold. A wall of emotions slammed into him at the sight of Tony Stark and he froze; someone pushed past him to enter the auditorium, but Steve couldn't move. The moment Tony raised his eyes to meet his, Steve felt an inner jolt, but the shameful memory of him fleeing the man’s presence twice already rooted his feet to the spot. He drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders and entered the room.

Steve was the one to break eye contact, and carefully he never tried establishing it again. Steve was desperately looking forward to the meeting that was supposed to take place after the course was over, but it was weeks off yet and he’d been dreading that Tony had forgotten. Now he could see that that particular fear could be shelved; Tony’s gaze was too knowing, familiar, searching; he definitely remembered, but what if he’d lost interest? No doubt there were many attractive and more experienced subs competing for Tony Stark’s attention, especially if he was a part of some kind of particular club or active in the scene or whatever they called it. Steve tried to imagine going to a BDSM event, but couldn’t quite imagine it. He would, if he had to for some reason: to meet people, to talk… shop? He certainly would if Tony invited him. But generally, he felt much more comfortable keeping to the forums and chat one on one with people.

The lecture started and Steve startled at hearing Tony’s voice. No, that was Professor Stark speaking and Steve better pay attention. That phrase also made his stupid cock twitch. Dammit.

  


After that lecture, his crush blew fully open and he started acting like an idiot; hanging around the places on campus the professors were more likely to be, spying on the parking garage in the morning when Tony arrived to work, loitering in the halls the led to Tony’s office. Steve was an idiot and it had to stop.

He still couldn’t believe that Tony Stark was kinky and in just the right ways for Steve.

He still couldn’t believe there was a whole world out there where people liked the things he liked and nobody thought he was sick and disgusting for it. That Tony didn’t think he was disgusting.

God, he’d been so stupid.

Steve was still vaguely embarrassed to have been so transparent in his confusion, but then he thought back on how supportive and understanding Tony had been and how many people online also wrote of similar experiences, and he felt better. Tony must have seen a lot of it in young people around him.

He probably had a lot of experience with domming, too. Steve felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought. He couldn’t wait for the course to be over.

One thing had been true from the start: Steve was stupidly, irrevocably in love with Tony Stark and no one could know about it. He knew his friends wouldn't tell, but it was embarrassing. It was worse than a celebrity crush even. Everybody understood celebrity crushes, everyone experienced them, but having a crush on a teacher - that happened to fifteen-year-olds.

But Steve hadn’t experienced that when he was fifteen and now it was apparently his turn. His heart rate picked up every time he saw Tony, heard his voice or _thought_ that maybe he’d heard his voice. All Steve’s waking and sleeping hours were filled with dreams of Tony Stark’s eyes and curls at the nape of his neck and the slight dusting of grey at his temples, the tender crow feet at his eyes and his welcoming smile.

Steve cursed the universe for being born so late, but it was what it was, and even if he would never be Tony’s actual love interest, at least, he could try to be a decent sub.

  


The same evening after he started visiting lectures again, he plugged in the flash drive Tony had given him and set out to see what Tony Stark had deemed important for a sub to know. Steve had been right, there were lists for online materials with guidelines, some of which he’d already found himself, but there was more, and to his surprise, none of it had the flavour of ‘so you realized you were gay’. Instead, the focus seemed to be more on dynamics and a link to a very thorough article about the pitfalls of labelling. What Steve also found interesting was the short list of sites to be cautious about.

One of the downsides of going through the flash drive was that Steve had to constantly remind himself that he wasn’t educating himself for Tony but for himself; he needed to find out the specifics of his own likes, dislikes and where were his limits. For that, he continued visiting forums, read, watched carefully selected porn and masturbated. A lot. He also bought toys and got to know his own body.

And tonight, he told himself a week later when he finally had the apartment to himself, he was going to learn self-bondage.

  


Because he was Steve Rogers, he prepared thoroughly, but some of the things he wanted to try were the things that the sites did not suggest for a newbie to start with. Steve ignored it; he had scissors and a permanently unlocked phone next to each other on the nightstand on a rubber mat so that it would be extremely difficult to knock them down by mistake.

He undressed, put on a cockring, lubed his hole up and slowly, patiently, inserted a vibrator plug. It was the biggest he’d ever tried, and it was his first that vibrated. God, it felt so good. Just from this preliminary set-up, Steve groaned as he sat on the plug fully, fidgeted and felt how it moved felt inside him. Then he lifted up and turned the vibration on.

He sighed; the sensation was magical and for a moment Steve thought that maybe this was where he should stop, take himself in hand and enjoy this. Just this.

But that wasn’t the plan and Steve wasn’t a quitter. Besides, he’d already posted this as a challenge on the forums and he was not going to be the first one to fail in fulfilling it. He clicked through the vibrator settings, found a good, moderate one and testing it, shifted around on the bed. He lied down and shivered in pleasure as he kept himself from touching his cock. Steve really hoped the arousal wouldn’t hinder his ability to do what he’d planned, but it already felt so good and his cock was growing in girth and length. Smiling giddily to himself, he stood and pulled on tight lockable leather shorts to secure it all in place and locked them with a tiny padlock at the front. The key that opened the lock he’d frozen into an ice cube two days ago. It was still in the freezer and just the idea of it got his breath shorter. But then again, it might be the plug buzzing away in his asshole.

He tried sitting down, crowtching, walking, and the sensations changed with the position. While walking, the angle was awkward at first, but he moved his legs and clenched his butt to find the most comfortable way for it to settle. It didn’t really, but he got somewhat used to the intrusion. He felt a light sheen of sweat appear on his forehead and slowly, he walked to the kitchen to retrieve the key. He got the ice cube out of the freezer and put it in a small transparent bowl which he brought into his bedroom and placed behind the scissors and the phone. He was pretty sure now that he wouldn’t need either of those. The buzz in his butt felt very good and his cock was straining against the padding of his firm booty shorts, and it felt wonderfully exciting, but nowhere near the edge yet. Steve stared at the cube in the bowl and it still looked as icy as it had before.

Steve grinned.

Yes, he was now stuck in these pants, destined to be aroused for as long as it took for the cube to melt. He wasn’t sure how long it would take, but that was part of the thrill. He hoped it would be rather longer than he imagined, not shorter. Would the batteries run out first? Would it hurt by the time he got them off? Would he be limping for the next two days or would he be able to repeat the experience before Bucky returned from some relative’s wedding next Monday?

Time to test his limits.

Carefully, Steve bent over and pulled his sweatpants on. After donning a shirt and flip-flops, he took his keys and the phone and walked out of his apartment. The first moment after his apartment door clicked shut behind him, his adrenaline spiked and he had the urge to try the door, but it was okay, he told himself, jingling his keys in his pocket. He was only going to check the mailbox.

Four flights of stairs. It was going to be fine.

By the time he was down three, he was reconsidering whether it was worth it or if it would be safer to return. Going back up without checking the mailbox felt silly; what if someone saw him turn around? What would they think?

_Nothing, you idiot, they’d just think that you forgot something. Nobody cares what you do on the stairs, moving at a glacial pace._

He was harder than nails and the urge to touch himself was so, so bad. The least he could do was to adjust his idiotic erection, but even if he could, he shouldn’t do ti here on the stairs, Steve reminded himself after checking their predictably empty mailbox and starting the slightly daunting climb back up with his legs shaking.

Before he put his hand into his pocket he panicked again for a moment about having left his keys behind, but of course, he hadn’t and he let himself in without any problems. Back in the safety of the apartment, he sat down on the bed and undressed.

He glanced at the clock. It was just twelve minutes in, but felt like forever. Not nearly enough though - God, he needed to come _so_ bad. Steve flopped down on his bed and thought that there would be no point in going through with it he was going to come soon anyway. Jesus. He caressed his cock through the thick padding and a hard cover. Of course, it was designed so that his cock couldn’t actually feel the touch and Steve groaned in disappointment and thrill. He hadn’t thought it would feel so good so fast. He wasn’t desperate yet, but he wasn’t far off either. Probably. The idea of coming so soon but being stuck in this stupid get-up for hours more sounded vaguely scary. Exciting, but also scary. He knew he could come twice in a row, three times if it got really good and he worked for it, but it would also hurt-

But wasn’t that the point? Groaning, Steve turned onto his front and humped the mattress a couple of times. _Shit._ He should stop. It was too early to come, that’s why the cock ring was there. He rubbed his whole front against the bed covers and whined.

He sat back up to get more friction with his plug, but in the pants, it didn’t feel like it helped that much, so he tried manipulating the base with his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed at how uncomfortable it was to pleasure himself in this damn get-up! It just was what it was and he just had to endure.

God, it felt so good!

He curled up into a ball with his arms between his thighs, but he still couldn’t keep from moving around, muscles tense and shivery. Unable to help himself, he pressed his palms on his cock hard and it _exploded._

Quickly, he flopped onto his back, pulling his hands from his crotch, but it was too late: he was coming. With nothing to aid his poor cock along, there were no actual orgasm contractions, Steve just felt the sperm leaking out and the incredible feeling of the build up fizzling into nothing turned into unbearable frustration. It was agonising. Steve wished he could touch himself to soothe his cock, even though he had no idea if it would actually help. His balls felt so heavy, they ached with dark pulses of the flow that had nowhere to go. Steve lowered his head and moaned his despair into his palms.

_That_ had felt awful.

That must be the ruined orgasm everyone just loved to hate. God, Steve totally knew what they meant now. It was like an orgasm starting and then just… unsatisfying all around. God.

Steve _loved_ it.

Moaning, Steve wished he had a Dom (a certain face flashed in front of his eyes that he did his best to banish) to force him to continue, because he was seriously contemplating smashing the blasted ice cube (there was a small pool of water, but he couldn’t even see the key yet).

Nothing for it then, he’d have to proceed with his plans. In a minute, after he’d had a chance to recuperate. Or gather his resolve. Steve let out a small whine, because he was alone and no one would hear it if he was quiet enough. He would have to tie himself up after all, he thought with grim satisfaction. Yes.

Sitting up was a little uncomfortable, but there was little pain and Steve’s brain categorised it as a good feeling. His cock was still half-hard and on its way back to full hardness. Steve figured it would be still good the second time around but probably quite painful after, unless the batteries died. It would be sensible to make sure not to come too quickly again. Self-bondage was said to be a form of self-care, but it also meant that the after-care would also be self-administered, so perhaps it would be smart not to really hurt himself.

He took a bundle of rope, uncoiled it and started tying his legs at the ankles. The next loop was under the knees, then above, then mid-thigh. Unable to resist, he pulled a rope over his hips and his once-more hard and aching cock. He knotted it on his hip so that it wouldn’t wouldn’t be in the way or come loose while lying on his back or front.

Steve sighed. The next bit was kind of symbolic and Steve wished it meant something more, but he knew that the only one who cared at the moment was Steve himself. Still, he picked up the inch-wide black leather collar with buckles and fastened it around his neck. He swallowed, testing the fit and debated if he should loosen it just in case, but the snug feeling was the best thing about it; if it were any looser, it could as well be a random necklace. The tightness around his neck felt right. Dedication. Connection. That’s what submission was all about.

He fastened the buckle, put his hands down, lowered his head and said quietly, ”This is for you, Tony. I’m sorry, if that’s not enough.”

The knowledge that Tony had probably his own sub or several to play with was cutting, but the ache of it was familiar by now. Steve had to be a realist; if it happened at all, a short while of being just one of the people Tony indulged in would have to be enough. Maybe it could.

Right now wasn’t the time nor place to ruminate on it though. The plug in his ass was still buzzing away, even though it felt weaker. Steve wasn’t sure if the batteries were winding down or if he’d just become accustomed to the intensity. Unfortunately, this model didn’t come with a remote control, so for now, Steve would just have to get used to it being mildly irritating.

He got the leather wrist cuffs and buckled them tightly. Then, for the last time, he checked the small padlock and put the key on the rubber mat, between the phone and the scissors. Then, he reached behind his head and padlocked both wrist cuffs to the back of his neck.

There.

He was done.

Gingerly, he lied down, closed his eyes and wished he was brave enough to plug his ears and wear a blindfold, but that would be too bold even for his first time.

Lying down, the plug sat more comfortably in him and when he clenched his butt cheeks it created a delicious sensation. He repeated it a couple of times, but then stopped, because his cock was rock hard again and he had no idea how long he had to wait yet. He glanced at the transparent bowl and if there even was a little more water now, he couldn't see it from his vantage point, but that was also good. Steve wasn't ready for this to be over yet. In fact, he felt as if he’d just started.

  


Steve closed his eyes and immersed himself in every sensation his body was feeling; the thrumming arousal, tense muscles and how it felt to flex them. He tried the bindings on his legs, bucked his hips, twisted around and tried to pull his hands away from the back of his neck - all in vain.

Steve revelled in feeling entirely helpless. Since there were few other distractions, the buzzing in his ass was an insistent intrusion now and his cock was harder than ever before. He thought of rolling onto his front, but should he really - was he allowed?

There was no one to really tell him no, but he desperately wished there was. He set himself tasks, decided on conditions: _I’ll count to fifty, then I can turn over; when I count to fifty can hump the mattress ten times._ He made up more, fulfilled some, ignored the others, all in all, exciting, but less satisfying than having any real directions forced upon him. Next time he would let forum members give him instructions to follow.

The idea set him on a path he’d wondered about a thousand times before: he imagined what people would think if they saw him right now. Would they be confused to see him writhing on the bed all trussed up like he was? Would they realize that it wasn’t something done to him, but something he did to himself? Would they be disgusted if they knew? Would they call him names? Strangely, this idea was not as appealing as he'd expected because strangers’ derision was something he could actually do without, but there was a person Steve knew in real life that would like the display, and the mocking from whom Steve could very much enjoy. Steve didn’t think it would mean much to Tony; undoubtedly, he’d seen tons of young subs ready to drop to their knees at the slightest hint of interest, but he would at least appreciate Steve’s effort. Maybe he wouldn’t even choose to play with Steve himself, but he’d know people who could, who’d be trustworthy.

But Steve wanted _Tony._ He wanted Tony to want _him._

Tony did want him once, even without any offer of power exchange. Would he really turn Steve down if he promised to obey him? Surely Tony would love to tease and taunt Steve while he was all trussed up? Steve shut his eyes again and imagined how Tony would sound if confronted with Steve all ready and trembling like he was right now; the dismissive amusement with perhaps a hint of softness. _And what have we here, huh? A real-life toy for me to play with?_ Realistically speaking Tony would probably like the idea.

_Please,_ Steve thought. _Please._ He rolled onto his back and keened at the loss of contact to his groin. He bucked up and imagineed Tony’s strong calloused hands on his body; how they would feel on the nape of his neck, or around his larynx. How he would play with Steve’s nipples and pecs even if it didn’t do much for either of them, except as a sign of ownership; as something he could do just because Steve had no way to stop him. Steve imagined how the Dom’s voice would sound in his ear while fucking him from behind, pressing him down over the same desk they had sex against the last time.

His fantasies derailed into several different sex scenes as Steve panted and moaned, humped the mattress and finally came for the second time.

It hurt.

After that Steve just lied there for a bit. Everything that had been uncomfortable, was uncomfortable times ten now. He honestly wished he could shut the fucking plug off and at the same time he revelled at his inability to do so.

_Shit._

Steve _wanted._ He wanted it to end now and never. He was still aroused, but his dick was limp and his experience told him that it would be for some time yet. His G-spot was overstimulated. That was all kinds of unpleasant.

_Please._

Steve moaned.

  


An indeterminate amount of time later it was just unpleasant and it hurt. Steve sat up and looked at the stupid ice cube. Would he be terribly disappointed with himself if he aborted the play? It didn’t feel _bad,_ he could take it. He would’ve definitely enjoyed all of it (the pain, overstimulation and soreness) if a Dom was actively directing what was happening, but as it stood, he was just hurting himself and that was boring.

Steve shifted closer to his night stand and eyed the arrangement he’d left. He maneuvered himself onto his knees (he groaned at the way the plug shifted in him) and balancing carefully with his thigh and stomach muscles burning, leaned over the nightstand. He used his lips and teeth to pick up the key to his cuffs, rearranged them in his mouth so he was sure he wouldn’t drop them accidentally, he moved back into the middle of the bed and dropped them near the pillows.

Okay, now for the hard part.

He lied down on his back so that his hands were more or less in the right spot and started feeling around. When he got them, he sat up (another groan) and-

Okay, so that wasn’t the hard part, Steve surmised. Or maybe he got lucky. He stretched out his stiff shoulder and arm muscles and untied his legs. Oh god, how good it was to move around again! On shaky legs, Steve stood up and imagined how his (faceless!) Dom would direct him to walk around the room with the plug still lodged inside him, hurting him. How he would order Steve on his knees to suck him off at this point, calling him pretty-

Whoah, where…?

No. Steve wasn’t going to think about that… Except that he was tired and he wanted Tony, not some other faceless Dom, and Tony had called him pretty, precious and beautiful, and it felt so good to be called a good boy when he felt exhausted and hurting like he was right then. Dropping to his knees, Steve sucked at his own fingers, pulled his hair and tried to remember how Tony had sounded when he had sucked him off that first and only time.

His cock was hard again.

Fuck, it would hurt if he came again, but he imagined the pleased smile on Tony’s face when Steve told him that he could take a little pain for him, all the pain that Tony chose to bestow on him, and he would beg for more-

_Please, please, please,_ Steve thought as he turned to his bed and humped against its side. _Oh god, please, Tony. Please, I’m begging you. Please allow me to worship you, suck you off and-May I come? Please, sir? May I? I’ll be a good-_

A blinding ball of tension was building building, building and exploded finally low in his belly, spreading instantly all over his body and out to his lips and his prostate was-

Oh god, no, please-

Steve keeled over and fell in a half-controlled thump onto the floor curling into a ball of agonized bliss. God it was good, so good, it hurt so good.

However, only several seconds later, the hurt turned unpleasant and was rapidly barrelling into ‘oh god no’ territory with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. On shaking limbs, Steve got up by leaning on the bed and crawled on his knees towards the stupid bowl only to realise that he’d forgot to leave himself a tool to crush the ice should he choose not to wait it out. For a split second, he thought about waiting but no. It wasn’t worth it. It seemed that he’d found a limit to his masochism after all.

He tried breaking it in half between his palms, but it was too slippery and too big for biting through. He put it into his mouth and sucked; the cold water was refreshing, the sucking motion familiar and humiliating, and unexpectedly, Steve started enjoying the pain of overstimulation. The excitement came partly from pain, but also the feeling of being forced, the images of Tony sitting on the bed and petting his hair; telling him to be a good boy and suck like the slut he was, that if Steve were good enough, he might give him something else to suck too. Steve’s body spasmed in some approximation of a preorgasm, but-

The pain was bad, it was bad. _Oh god, please no._

This time it took him out of the fantasy and sucking at the ice cube was taking too long. Maybe he should just cut through the pants? But they were good pants and expensive--Steve stood and limped to the kitchen.

Melting the ice in the sink was a quick work, and groaning with relief, Steve got the pants off and the plug out. God, it felt good. Good, but empty. He’d love for his boyfriend to touch him there, insert his fingers or a smaller plug if he was feeling especially cruel. Steve smiled sadly at the thought. What would Tony do to his play partner? Boyfriend? Steve felt a twinge of jealousy and shut that thought down. _Keep it impersonal, keep it sexy,_ he told himself. Would he use the plug? Would he pinch his nipples or squeeze his balls, just because he could? Would he embrace Steve from behind and hold him, nuzzling the short hairs on his neck? _God, stop it, Rogers!_

Steve glanced out of the kitchen window and slid down to the floor. Sitting in the pool of fluids and sweat with the used toy at his side should be disgusting. Instead, he felt an eerie sort of calm. Was he happy? Satisfied? Tired? Yes to all of the above. But now that he was coming down, he was also acutely aware of the fact that he was lonely in his after-care because Tony wasn’t actually here. No one was. And now that he wasn’t high on arousal, the vague idea of Tony being proud of him didn’t feel real enough, so again Steve reminded himself that he hadn’t done it for Tony, nor any other Dom out there who might potentially some day be interested in domming him.

Steve had done it for himself. Tony was just a fantasy. Like a celebrity or a book character. And Steve was the one who would have to love himself, take care of himself, accept himself.

Gently, he pulled the cock ring off and grabbing the plug from the floor, got up.

Showering hadn't felt so satisfying in a long while. Nor sleep as peaceful.

  


By the time the spring semester neared its end, Steve’s crush had settled. He knew that he was just a young pup for such a distinguished man as Tony Stark. By design, they hadn't had direct contact since the fateful discussion and Steve was half afraid that Tony had reconsidered, but every time their eyes met across the hall or a lawn, Steve knew that the interest was mutual. Attraction. Want. Curiosity. Whatever.

Once, Steve almost talked to him in the coffee line. God, Steve wished he’d had the courage to actually say something, but Tony was with a colleague, so he’d just said hello and nodded at Steve and Steve had frozen, his heart probably in his eyes, swallowed heavily and jerked his head in greeting, but Tony had already been turning away to reply to something his colleague had said.

God, Steve was so stupid. How hard would it have been to say, ‘hello, how have you been, professor’? He could’ve actually gotten some small talk down with him; hear his voice as it was talking to _him_ for once. Instead, he had stood in a queue behind him, listening in like a creep and feeling hot the way he did when he was blushing. He’d kept his head down over his notebook, just in case he looked especially moronic, but that was a given anyway.

Even days later he was still reimagining the whole encounter in all the different ways that allowed Steve to be witty and charming, and tried to accept that he hadn’t been.

  


The research and the experiments Steve was conducting in the meantime, fuelled his dreams and turned his vague notions into concrete kinks and fantasies. He couldn't wait to tell Tony about them.

Then, the semester was done and days were slowly trickling by as Steve became surer and surer that Tony had forgotten all about him. Or had simply reconsidered.

The text came in the middle of the week.

_Hi :) This is Tony. We agreed to meet when the semester’s done? Let me know if you’re still game._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god,_ Steve chanted in his head as he was staring at the display. He was in the library, ostensibly reading; telling himself that he wasn’t trying to get a glimpse of a certain faculty member to gauge his reaction to Steve. _I’m game, I’m game, of course I am,_ he told himself and tried to come up with ways to say so suavely, in a flirty way, or… well, at least not sounding like a teen with a crush.

Their meeting would be awkward enough, he didn’t have to start with awkward texts. He deleted several versions of his reply, not wanting to sound too eager or too indifferent or like an idiot. How did people do this? Steve’s heart was fluttering in his chest as he typed and deleted and worried that he was taking too long. But it was fine. He might not have his phone with him, he might be in the shower or at the cashiers or-

_Dammit, Rogers, get a grip! He’s not going to think anything bad if you reply within the next half an hour._ Steve imagined himself waiting for Tony’s reply for half an hour and the idea was torturous. On the other hand, Tony was not in love with him, so it was okay to delay a bit.

His heart squeezed painfully at the thought that his feelings were very much one-sided and that even sex… No, the sex or at least _something_ was going to happen in any case. Steve was more or less sure of that now. Unless Tony was in an exclusive relationship by now. There had certainly been enough time for him to have met somebody. But if that was the case, would he have asked if Steve was ‘ _game_ ’?

Steve’s fingers tightened on his phone as he stared at his half-finished reply. The last he’d talked to Tony was almost four months ago, plenty of time to get involved with someone seriously. Steve shook his head and pressed sent.

_I know who you are. I saved your number. ;) Still game._

Oh god, why did he put a smirk in there? Should have made it a smile. What’s ironic about saving someone’s number? He should’ve put the smirk at the end. Shit. He’d thought it had been flirty, but maybe it just looked moronic?

The sudden notification sound of a text made Steve blink in surprise and it took him a second before he could actually comprehend the words in front of him.

_Great! Do you know where the JoBean is? Saturday at noon good?_

Saturday? This Saturday? It was in four days! Steve wouldn’t have time to prepare! On the other hand, how the hell was Steve going to survive four whole days? Steve took a steadying breath.

_I know the place. I’ll be there._

He should’ve added an emoji. Or something. Impulsively, Steve sent a smiley and then stared at it in horror. He’d managed to click on the one that had a blush. What was he? A 15-year-old girl? _Fuck!_

  


The cafe where they had agreed to meet was moderately crowded and on the other side of the city from campus. Steve had worn a ball cap and was now regretting his choice. He probably looked like a trucker whore with his tight jeans, a t-shirt and a ball cap. Jesus. Just because Sharon though he looked good in them didn’t mean… He took the cap off. What did it even matter if he was recognised? Or what he what he wore when he was? It was lunch time and they wouldn't be doing anything compromising. Unfortunately.

Nobody would think that they’d fucked once while still in a teacher-student relationship - Steve was just paranoid.

Everything in Steve froze when he saw the door open and Tony walk in. Irrationally, Steve suddenly thought: _‘thank god I at least submitted all the homework’_ because fuck, why would he even think about that. Tony wasn’t even his professor any more, but the heat pooling in Steve’s gut told him that he might like the idea of a role-play. With an inner trepidation and a twitching cock, Steve watched his _ex-_ professor’s eyes flit around the room until they landed on Steve. Tony’s eyes lit up with such joy and anticipation that Steve’s nerves instantly evapourated. Instead, he felt giddy.

Tony stopped in front of Steve and for a moment Steve thought that Tony would scoop down to kiss him, but that was a stupid notion and he felt silly for even thinking that when the older man sat down across from him.

“You ordered yet?” he asked unceremoniously and that felt right; it was as if they were old friends, as if they didn’t have more than fifteen years age difference.

Steve shook his head. “I just arrived.”

They ordered together and made small talk. Steve shifted in his seat and regretted his stupidity when his stiffy turned even stiffer. He’d thought that being slightly aroused would take the pressure off, but it didn’t help at all. Now he was aroused, yes, but the excitement was a surplus emotion he didn’t need. He should’ve jerked off that morning.

Fuck.

“So, have you looked at the flash drive I gave you?” Tony asked just as they were tucking in.

All business then.

“Yes, I did.” Steve swallowed with his mouth dry. “The links were very helpful.”

Tony nodded, but didn’t say anything as if waiting for Steve to elaborate, so he did.

“I learned a lot from them.” Only after having said the words did Steve realised how true they were. He was grateful. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between Tony and him, Steve would always be grateful for having been shown the path to understanding himself. “Thank you,” Steve added and smiled warmly.

“You are very welcome.”

Tony smiled, but it was somehow crooked and Steve wanted to kiss the imperfection off and see if he could turn it into a laugh. To make it their thing. The knowledge that he probably would never have the chance, made him ache with longing.

“I just remember my own fumbling days of misunderstanding myself and my partners,” Tony went on. “Potential partners, botched negotiations and unfair or unequal expectations. Failed relationships.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “A lot of it was directly my fault, but could’ve been avoided if there had been someone to explain what a dynamic even was.”

Steve nodded. That he could understand perfectly. Sex wasn’t the main part of why Peggy and he hadn’t worked out, but it was one of the many things that hadn’t worked very well.

“My ex-girlfriend told me that I was weird about sex, but I don’t think it was because she was a girl. I liked her for who and what she was; still do in a way.” Steve shrugged. “We were young and she had no idea what was going on with me either.”

“So, not gay, after all?”

Steve grinned. “Not all the way, no.”

And Tony nodded his acceptance easily as if he’d heard that Steve preferred sweet apples to sour.

“You still game to try with me, though?” Tony asked and grimaced before Steve had time to climb a rooftop to shout his enthusiastic consent from. “Sorry. Sorry, ignore that. I was actually going to ask you whether there were things you wanted to ask me; if there was anything that bothered you and if you wanted me to introduce you around-”

“I love bondage and orgasm control, maybe even denial,” Steve said quietly. “Pain, mild degradation, being made to wait and endure. My limits for pain are a bit unclear, and I’m thinking they would be different with a partner than they are alone. Hard limits are scat and infantilization, but there might be more I haven’t discovered yet.”

Tony was still. He’d been listening avidly, his beautiful, large eyes trained on Steve with interest more akin to hunger and to Steve’s astonishment, joy. Out of their own volition, Steve’s lips turned up into a slight smile and Tony’s instantly broke out in a grin.

“That’s a yes to doing a session with me,” Tony more said than asked.

“That’s a definite yes.” Steve made a pause. “Sir.”

  


Steve arched his back and stretched out his hands to the sides as far as they would go while cuffed to the bed frame by strong dark leather cuffs lined with soft suede. He opened his eyes and saw Tony looming above him, his eyes bright with intensity that made them look even darker and more beautiful. There was softness to his lips that Steve wanted to kiss, and would have if he hadn’t been tethered to the bed and if there hadn’t been the large ball gag in his mouth.

“Ung,” he said and arched again to somehow alleviate the pressure that the vibrating plug was creating, but as his legs were also cuffed to the corners of the bed, there wasn’t much give.

Steve _loved_ it.

 

**THE END**


	2. SMUTTY EPILOGUE - almost three months into the arrangement (written because the author has no self restraint)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some more smut and pining. ;)  
> You are welcome :)

 

"I want to kiss you," Steve said, almost demanded, even though he really wasn’t in any position to do so; kneeling as he was on the floor with his hands tied to the footboard and a spreader bar between his knees.

"Do you now?” Tony asked, smirking.

He stepped closer and sat down next to him, resting his back on the same bed he’d tied Steve to. “You want to kiss me?” Tony leaned in and stopping almost within touching distance from Steve's lips, hummed questioningly. “Maybe you should ask nicely then?"

"Please," Steve said, also leaning in to catch his lips, but Tony pulled away and Steve snapped his head back, trying to appear angry. “Kiss me,” he repeated, still not far enough down in subspace to be especially subservient. “Please.”

"Kiss me please what?" Tony was still smirking.

He was magnificent in his dom zone, confident; one of the rare times when he looked at peace. If Steve had always thought he’d seemed powerful and self-assured in the lecture hall, then that had been nothing compared to how he looked during a scene.

"Kiss me,  _ Stark, _ " Steve said after a short, but intense, pause. “Please,” he added with a smirk of his own.

Not at all perturbed, Tony’s lips turned up into a pleased grin.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” he asked, lifting his eyebrow and slumping back to the side of the bed he was leaning against. “You were much more pliant earlier, sitting through a movie and dinner with a plug up your ass,” he commented.

_ I was working on not thinking of how date-like it seemed,  _ Steve didn’t say. He needed a distraction. To get his head back in the game.

“Well, that was on my terms, wasn’t it?” Steve tugged at his restraints and bit down on a moan. “Now that you’ve kidnapped me and made me your bitch-” Steve got shivers just from saying that, “-you can expect me to put up any and every fight I can, you bastard!” Steve tried to spat the last, but he wasn’t sure he quite managed.

Tony’s nostrils flared in clear amusement. “I kidnapped you, did I?” He looked around the room and shrugged. “Well, I guess, it was my car and this is my room after all.” He tilted his head questioningly. “And do you demand kisses from every kidnapper you come across or am I special?”

Up until the last part Steve had been ready to laughingly admit that he was mixing the different role-play scenarios, but Tony asking about being special to Steve knocked all the mirth straight out of him. They’d been playing for over two months now but Steve still hadn’t told Tony how he felt about him. Mentally brushing the thought off, Steve replied, “I’m trussed up with an irritatingly tiny plug up my ass. A kiss or two is the least you could do.”

Tony smirked. “Well. I guess I can agree to a kiss then. Just a moment please," he added politely and moved away towards his toy chest.

With giddy anticipation Steve strained to see what Tony would return with, but the object wasn’t even hidden from him.

"This," Tony raised the large blue ball gag, "is my kiss to you. Open up," he said warmly and Steve felt his heart swell with warmth in return.

He still made a valid pretence of resisting; turned his head away and clamped his mouth closed, but Tony just turned his face back and pushed his fingers into the pressure points that made his jaws open almost unwillingly. The gag filled his mouth in the most delicious way and Steve tried swallowing but, of course, he only could when lifting his chin in a certain way. He wasn’t sure if he hoped for or dreaded Tony fixing his head low so that the saliva would dribble down his chin. He had done that last session and the humiliation of it was delicious, but also more embarrassing than expected. Besides, tonight’s game was supposed to be about endurance, not humiliation. Wasn’t it?

Tony interrupted his musings by leaning in to kiss the surface of the ball without touching any part of his lips and Steve’s skin broke out in shivers. He moaned.

"Enjoy," Tony said, took his phone from the bed and tapped on something.

Steve's whole body jerked as his cock ring and the butt plug started vibrating in unison. He groaned in frustration and tried clenching his hole around the plug to get a better feeling, but it was just too small to be satisfying in any real way.

“Ung,” he said and tried shifting around on the soft carpet to ease the pressure that the two-point vibration was creating. He arched his back and saw that Tony was watching him avidly, his eyes bright and happy. It made Steve feel… He looked away.

Despite the fact that they’d just started actively playing not half an hour ago, Steve was leaking. He’d been wearing the plug all evening and even though it had only been to make the dinner and a movie more of a session and less like a date (which it wasn’t), Steve was starting to regret the stupidly small size he had chosen.

“Such a good boy, Steve,” Tony crooned in the meantime. “So beautiful and pliant for me.” He slid his fingers over Steve nipples once, twice, then squeezed them both at the same time.

Steve had never been one for nipple play because they just weren’t that sensitive for him, but with Tony, it wasn’t always about pleasure. When Tony leaned in to bite and pinch them, the sensations provided such an unexpected counterpoint to the arousal in the rest of the body that Steve yelped. Tony smirked, drew back, and still squeezing the nubs painfully between his fingers, kissed the ball gag, then the corner of Steve’s lips, his jaw. Letting up the pressure on Steve’s nipples just for a bit, he sucked Steve’s lower and then upper lip into his mouth as deep as he could. Steve wished he’d leave bruises, but Tony never would. Not on his face at least.

The pressure on his poor nipples increased again and Steve gasped as Tony pulled at them painfully, let go, rubbed and pinched them repeatedly. By the time he finished, Steve was trembling all over, the intense pleasure making his dick hard and leaking even more. It would probably fall off from frustration, and that also felt absolutely fantastic, but Steve wished he could just rub himself against something…

“Dammit,” Tony muttered, interrupting Steve’s gradual slide into subspace. “Forgot something. Sorry, darling. Back in a sec,” he added and left Steve’s field of vision.

Even though Tony hadn’t fixed Steve’s head in any way, the slight subspace he was experiencing prevented him from turning back to look at what his Dom was planning on doing.

Suddenly, there was a sting at his testicles and Steve jerked. Looking down, he stilled immediately because yes, that was exactly what it had felt like: crocodile clips on his balls, but what was new, were the chains that connected to-

“Pweah,” he pleaded with his Dom when he saw that on the other end of the chains was another pair of clips that Tony wanted to put on his abused nipples. Steve tried to back away, but there was not much leeway, so now, every movement he made, pulled at something and Steve tried to keep still to absorb and get used to the pain.

“Shush, baby, darling, my sweet boy, shush,” Tony murmured while petting his hair and neck tenderly and peppering his face with kisses. “It’s okay, my pretty, it’s okay, you can do it, yeah? It’s not for long, I promise you can do it,” he kept saying as he kissed Steve’s eyelids for some reason. Steve had no idea why Tony did it, but he seemed to like doing that and Steve _ loved it. _

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart? Nod if you understand.”

_ Please,  _ he thought at Tony,  _ please.  _ He knew it would hurt. The clips would hurt as Tony fucked him and-

_ Please. _

“Okay. Good.” Tony looked him in the eye with such fond tenderness that for a moment, Steve forgot that it was just a game, a session, for pretend, and that showing the full depth of his love plain in his eyes was inadvisable. So he stared into Tony’s eyes for a split second too long and Tony’s gaze faltered. He looked shaken, then in a blink the uncertainty was gone and he grinned, his smile slightly plastic. It made Steve’s stomach turn over, but then Tony took hold of his belt buckle with the clear intention of dropping his pants and the moment was broken. Full warmth back in his gaze, Tony kissed Steve’s cheek and got up to move behind him.

Steve knew that he only had to snap his fingers to safeword, but the pain was bliss and Tony was his savior, judge and executioner, so he nodded and wished he could just kiss his Dom.

_ Please. _

“Shame I haven’t installed any mirrors in this room,” Tony said, putting his strong callused hands on Steve’s ass cheeks to part them. He ran his thumbs up and down along the crack, snagging the plug carelessly, just enough for Steve to feel it. “I’d make you watch as I fucked you again and again, until you felt raw and broken, begging for me to finally let you come.”

Steve shivered and made a noise at the back of his throat which resulted in Tony sighing in contentment. He pressed his hard-on against Steve’s crack and humped it, groaning and driving the plug in that much more.

Steve would have protested or egged him on if he could, but neither proved necessary because the next moment the plug was out and the cock in and-

Unexpectedly, the pressure in Steve’s cock and balls gave and he was coming. Nothing but the restricting ring around the base was touching his cock, so it was ruined--all ruined again! Just like the last time it happened, Steve groaned his frustration and pain, tore against his bonds in a sweet, sweet agony, the pain in his nipples and sack making it better, making it worse, but contrary to how it was the last time--Tony was right here and his voice was full of astonishment and awe as he gently caressed Steve's back in a soothing manner.

“Oh, wow! That's… God, you're amazing, Steve. I can’t believe you just… Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so...” Tony was babbling, as his hands were suddenly on Steve's cock petting and soothing the ache and all the negative of his ruined orgasm was instantly drowned in the pure bliss of being lo-

\- the bliss of clearly having pleased his Dom.

That cock ring, however, was still buzzing away and it was getting to be too much. Steve was trembling and keening quietly. It was uncomfortable, it was nasty it was- Steve considered snapping his fingers to let Tony know, but he could take it, it wasn’t as bad as the time he did self-bondage, not really-

“Snap your fingers if it’s too much,” Tony said hurriedly and instantly, Steve’s annoyance at the buzz turned into a pleased determination, once he realised that it had been deliberate.

Tony wanted him to experience it, to suffer.

Steve stretched his limbs as much as was possible in his position and groaned.

“You okay then? Snap your fingers twice if you are ok.”

Steve rolled his eyes and did as he was asked.

“Good. Great. Fantastic. God, Steve, I need to move right the fuck now!”

The smile that had formed around the ballgag slipped off Steve’s stretched lips and he pushed his ass back, making Tony groan.  _ Yes,  _ he wanted to say,  _ please!  _

Tony started thrusting.

The cock ring was a deterrent and a stimulant, his sperm continued to leak while his prostate was singing its own song. Steve was moaning and Tony was panting and grunting to the rhythm of his pistoning movements. Every time Steve moved, the chains swung along, and Steve's nipples and balls added their own cacophony to the orchestra of sensations.

Just when Steve started thinking it was too much and that he was going to have another ghost orgasm, Tony put his hand on Steve's cock and squeezed.

Steve roared his big-O past his gag and out into the world. His vision whited out and a part of him was vaguely pleased that Tony was also coming. That was the last thing he was aware of for a while.

At some point Steve realised that Tony had untied his hands from the footboard and was cradling him in his lap, strong arms around him. The cock ring was off and the gag was being eased out of his mouth.

"You okay?" Tony asked him quietly.

Steve raised his head. Tony was looking just as blissed out as Steve felt, and unable to hold himself back, Steve leaned in for a kiss. They kissed for a while, slowly and sloppily. Tiredly, but it was still amazing because it was Tony and Steve loved every touch, every glance, every kiss the man bestowed on him. He wanted to turn to get more comfortable-

And that was when Steve realised that the spreader bar was between his feet now.

Tony smirked. "Thought I might want to see you humbled," he said, taking both of Steve's wrists and joining them in front of him by a carabiner dangling between his cuffs. "That okay?" he said so gently that a part of Steve hated it with vengeance.

When would Tony stop treating him with kid’s gloves? Was it because Steve had feelings for him? Had he realised some time ago and was just pretending that it wasn’t true? The thought was humiliating. But then again, sometimes he looked at Steve with such open adoration and fondness that… Even if it was because of Tony simply being a service top, he was giving Steve false hope and that was unbearable.

"I've got my safeword, don't I?" Steve said, trying to sound annoyed to cover up his heartache.

Tony grimaced self-deprecatingly. "Then turn around," he said tersely, almost coldly. Without waiting for Steve to acquiesce, he shoved at Steve's shoulder. "On all fours,  _ boy, _ " he added, saying the last word in a slightly degrading way and Steve groaned, because yes, that was better. Just sex, nothing more. "Stay,” the Dom added.

Steve shivered. It was a while before Tony returned and for some reason Steve started feeling guilty, as if he’d hurt Tony’s feelings, but that couldn’t be right, could it? He shifted on his knees, feeling the bar between his legs restricting his movement and thought how good it felt to know that Tony wanted him around beyond a short session. They’d been playing for most of the day and Steve wished he could stay for the night. But that was a foolish notion.

Just as Steve started to wonder if Tony was trying to make him disobey by leaving him unattended for long enough for him to get impatient, the Dom returned with a wet rag. Ah. Steve shivered in anticipation.

It seemed that cleaning him up was one of Tony’s most favourite things to do and just for that reason, Steve had started liking the indignity of it. Like always, Tony quickly went over the wettest parts first, then took another washcloth and started thoroughly wiping him down as if polishing his favourite car. It wasn’t just the parts that were dirty either, it was all of him, with three different cleaning cloths, the last of which was soft and fluffy, and by the time Tony finished with him, Steve was always completely erect, even if he’d already come twice.

It was humiliating.

Especially since as far as he knew, Tony didn’t get hard over it. Intellectually, Steve knew that it was probably just that Tony wasn’t that young any more, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating that Steve was such a lust ball compared to the other man.

“You’re such a slut for it,” Tony commented fondly. “Getting a sponge bath in restraints gets you horny, huh?” he said with laughter in his voice and patted Steve on his butt. “Well, I’m hardly ready for another round any time soon, so you’ll just have to wait for it.”

Embarrassed, Steve shifted on his knees, and didn’t answer. 

Undoubtedly enjoying his embarrassment, Tony hummed and started another brush down with a coarse rag. That part was new.

Steve’s skin rose in goosebumps. Tony paid special attention to his raw nipples and Steve had to bite his lip to keep from whining. His cock and balls were next, and without warning, Tony rubbed the rag over his slightly sore asshole. Steve jerked.

“There, there,” Tony said, sounding amused. “Here, something to keep me entertained,” he added, and pushed a plug, larger than the previous one, into Steve’s opening. “Comfy?”

Steve gasped as Tony jiggled the plug in his ass.

"It’s also remote-controlled, but I preprogrammed it, because I don’t want to be bothered with changing it from one mode to another," Tony said indifferently, cruelly almost. “If it turns unbearable, I don’t want to know. You’ll wait until I say otherwise. Understood?”

Tony did something on his phone, but the plug didn't turn on immediately. The form of neglect Tony treated him to now, was exciting and Steve was aroused, so aroused that the unexpected feeling of rejection startled him.

He pushed it down. Steve knew that indifference and humiliation was what he had basically asked of Tony for tonight, but now that he had it, it didn’t feel like everything he’d wished for. Somehow, without love behind it, Steve found that an uncaring attitude was only that. There were tears in Steve’s eyes, but that was probably because his prostate was so tender and the plug had started to vibrate, right?

“Alright then,” Tony said, fastening a collar around Steve's neck. “Time to chill. Let’s go.”

Crawling awkwardly on the leash behind his Dom made Steve feel better instantly and he managed to push his maudlin feelings aside. He had a couple of hours more to enjoy it before he had to go, Steve reminded himself, as he shuffled along with his hands bound in front of him and the spreader bar between his feet.

The remainder of the evening was spent surfing TV channels and eating with Steve sitting at Tony's feet, the plug pushing in and buzzing randomly; making Steve break out in shivers or stifling a gasp. His hands were cuffed to the middle of the spreader bar, so he was forced to sit hunched over, Tony pulling on his leash whenever he decided to stop pretending that he wasn't interested in how his sub was doing. It felt good to be treated like this, made to endure just because his Dom said so, but tonight, Steve was also grateful that this position made it easy for him to avoid Tony’s eyes. His feelings were clearly too much for Tony. Steve had known they would be, but he hadn’t thought he’d just given himself away like that, so now he had to work to make Tony forget about them or make him think he’d been mistaken.

Thankfully, the plug’s changing rhythm and intensity also kept him distracted. It was difficult to eat, even when hand-fed, and Tony’s fingers in his hair felt heavenly. By the time the dinner was over, Steve was trembling and leaking again and when Tony finally fucked him over the couch, Steve came almost immediately.

Tony looked happy while removing the restraints and tender as they took a shower together. It was bittersweet, but according to Tony, doing coupley things like that were important after-care procedures, so Steve stayed for a cuddle on the sofa, but it was just too close to what he really wanted but couldn’t have, so very soon, he got up to dress.

“You could stay, you know,” Tony said, grabbing a Starkpad from the table. “I’d let you ride me in the morning.”

Startled, Steve glanced at Tony who was still lounging on the sofa, wearing only a silk dressing gown, looking down at his tablet as if he didn’t care one way or another.

“Tempting,” he admitted, swallowing back his want and longing. How could one man look so effortlessly stylish and somehow… homey at the same time? “But I can’t. See you Wednesday?” 

He was ready to turn and leave, but instead of the usual prompt reply, Tony remained silent and Steve’s stomach sank.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

Tony sounded bitter and with trepidation, Steve tried to find a good excuse, but no ideas were forthcoming.

“I…” Steve swallowed again. What was he supposed to say? Of course, he didn’t want to stay the night. Steve was pretty sure that it would be the point of no return for his heart. That would be the beginning of the end. Steve had been determined to keep this arrangement between himself and Tony afloat for as long as possible.

“Nevermind,” Tony said indifferently as if saying he wasn’t hungry. “It’s fine, I understand.”

Steve didn’t think he did. In fact, he thought that Tony sounded almost _ resigned, as if…  _ But why would he care that Steve never stayed? It wasn't as if he…

“Wednesday then?” Steve repeated with his heart in his throat.

“Sure,” Tony replied, but it sounded like ‘whatever’ or even ‘I might not be in’ and Steve-

No. This couldn’t be the end, not yet. He wasn’t ready.

“I’m demi,” Steve confessed, not letting himself think it through.

Steve had never thought that Tony cared as deeply as him, but… It was true that occasionally Tony looked at him with such adoration that Steve had to remind himself that it was just how Tony was while in dom space. Because it was only during the scenes, wasn’t it? Suddenly, Steve wasn’t so sure.

“What?” Tony’s head snapped up.

“I’m demi,” Steve repeated more confidently, thinking of all the times Tony had tried being gentle and thoughtful only to have been rebuffed because Steve felt too vulnerable to allow tenderness. “I’m demisexual, Tony.”

“Demisexual?” Tony stared at Steve. “But you still…?”

Steve waited for the penny to drop and saw Tony’s jaw going slack in shock. Steve was just about to turn away, utterly rejected and embarrassed at his half-assed assumptions, when he realized that it wasn’t dread or disappointment that started blossoming on Tony’s face, but joy and relief.

The Dom leaped up from the sofa and in a second had his palm on Steve’s cheek.

“Oh, thank god,” he said, staring at him in bright-eyed astonished awe. “I thought I was imagining it. God, how I was dreading you moving on from me.” He put his other hand on Steve’s neck and Steve melted into him, raising both of his arms around the other man’s waist. “Dammit Steve, why didn’t you just say so! I’ve been stupidly in love with you  _ for months _ . An old creep, lusting over young flesh-”

“Not just any young flesh though, is it?”

Tony laughed. “No. Not just any.” 

He slid his hand behind Steve’s head and crushed his lips to Steve’s.

Without pulling away from the kiss, Tony started walking them towards the bedroom.

Apparently, Steve was staying.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge for me to write for several reasons, but I loved it, and I really, really hope you'll enjoy this, One and Five Nines!  
> <3


End file.
